


All's Unfair in Love and War

by Elthadriel



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Permanent Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 07:24:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8740288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elthadriel/pseuds/Elthadriel
Summary: Bull mourns his past life.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hobbitdragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobbitdragon/gifts).



> For the prompt "Eventually Bull is going to have too many injuries to keep working as a mercenary. He's already got knee/ankle problems, missing fingers, a missing eye, and so on. What does he do instead once he's forced to retire from mercenary work? Is there a specific injury that causes it? And how does Bull's change from mercenary to some other job change his relationship with Dorian?"

Dorian slept.

 

He sprawled across the other side of the bed, on his stomach, drooling quietly onto the pillows. Bull wasn’t sleeping. Normally it was Dorian that struggled to sleep, but Dorian had ridden for three days to get here, and had barely had enough energy for an enthusiastic fuck before he had fallen asleep pressed up against Bull’s side.

 

Dorian had rolled away sometime later, the Antivan summer too hot for snuggling, even though he had limited himself to just two blankets. Dorian’s shoulders rose and fell in time with his breathing, and his fingers twitched where they were clinging to his pillow.

 

Everything else in the room was still.

 

There was a raised scar on Dorian’s back, dark against his skin, and knotted. An arrow had hit Dorian from the front and gone all the way through. Bull hadn’t been there when they had pulled it out, but he could still hear Dorian’s rasping breaths through the crystal as it was ripped free.

 

It was a new wound, new in the sense that it had happened after the Inquisition had disbanded, though it must be at least three years old now. Bull couldn’t remember where the decade since the end of the Inquisition had gone, or when he had Dorian had gotten so damned old. At least he was old, Dorian was only a little way into his forties, greying at the temple and creasing at the eyes, cursing that he looked more and more like his father with each passing day. Personally, Bull didn’t see much more resemblance than was to be expected.

 

The years had been less kind to Bull, his joints ached, old injuries coming back with a vengeance, and his damned lungs.

 

He was painfully predictable, running into a burning building to rescue some kid. He had inhaled too much smoke, Stitches had said, the heat damaging his lungs beyond repair. He was apparently lucky to be alive, but he would struggle to take in enough oxygen until the day he died.

 

The kid had been all right though.

 

Bull covered the scar with one hand, the warm from Dorian’s skin making him realize his skin was cold. Dorian made a soft noise and shifted before resettling.

 

Dorian had enough of a foothold in Tevinter that they could do without him for a couple of months at a time, so Bull had many weeks to enjoy Dorian’s company, but he was already dreading when Dorian would return. The arrow had just been one of the closer assassination attempts, Bull had been in the Free Marches at the time, unaware that his time as a mercenary was rapidly drawing to a close.

 

Bull hated knowing Dorian was in constant danger of assassination, but somehow it had been easier to bare when he was risking his life on a constant basis, too. Waiting here, too far away to help, but idle enough that he had no distraction? That sucked.

 

Worse yet, he was sure Dorian was grateful that Bull was relatively safe.

It turned out that inhaling fire wasn’t a great idea.

Bull removed his hand, thumb giving one final rub across the ugly scar. He breathed deeply, taking in as much air as he could, it wasn’t as much as he wanted it to be, it wasn’t enough when he climbed a couple of flights of stairs, never mind charged into battle. Dorian had pushed him to the bed when he had arrived, climbed into his lap and ridden him enthusiastically, and they both pretended it wasn’t because Bull’s impressive stamina had burned up with his lungs. Gone were the days of pushing Dorian face down into the bed and fucking him hard and fast while Dorian squirmed under him; fucking had to be slow or with Dorian setting the pace.

 

There was a heavy weight in his chest whenever he thought about the Chargers, and how much he missed that life, but there was something so unfair that the injury had affected his relationship with Dorian too.

 

Dorian made another soft sleepy noise and rolled over, trying to settle into Bull’s side which resulted instead into him nuzzling his face into Bull’s hip.

 

The next noise Dorian made was grumpy, and he woke up enough to frown up at Bull.

 

“You’re sitting?” Dorian mumbled, and Bull almost laughed, mood not broken, but for a moment he was startled out of feeling sorry for himself. The years might have affected him, but Dorian hadn’t changed in any way that mattered, that look of sleepy confusion was one Dorian had been given him since the first time he'd stayed over.

 

“Go back to sleep, Kadan.” Bull knew damn well Dorian wouldn’t just go back to sleep - he was too nosy for his own good - but it was worth trying.

 

As expected, Dorian huffed and pushed himself up so he was also sitting. He yawned, not bothering to cover his mouth with only Bull there, and took one of Bull’s hands, the one with missing fingers, into his own.

 

“What’s the matter?” Dorian asked, voice rough from sleep.

 

“Just brooding.” Bull easily managed a smile, too practiced in lying to ever forget how.

 

Dorian hesitated. “Thinking about something in particular?”

 

“Wish things were different, and I worry that you-” Bull cut himself off, trying to pull his hand back, but Dorian tightened his grip.

 

“Bull, we have worked very hard to be a couple that communicates well. If there’s a problem, I’d like to talk about it.”

 

“It’s not something you’re doing, it’s my own crap that I’m projecting.” Once Bull had been able to distract Dorian from conversations like this by kissing him until he had forgotten that Bull had ever been down in the first place. After he had left the Qun Dorian had come up to his room, awkwardly asking if he wanted to talk. It had been so easy to pull Dorian into his lap instead. They had been together far too long for that trick to work now.

 

“I’d still like to talk about it,” Dorian’s hands had been more callused when they’d met, from days spent fighting with his staff, but they had softened now, as he fought with words instead. Well, mostly words, sometimes progress still required a well-planned duel.

 

“I worry that you don’t wish things were different.”

 

Dorian’s mouth opened slightly but he didn’t say anything.

 

“I know that’s not fair to you, but I worry that you like me being out of commission, less likely to get eaten by a dragon, or stepped on by a giant. Not being able to breathe might have actually increased my life expectancy.”

 

There were tears forming at the edge of Dorian’s eyes and Bull’s chest gave a guilty twinge.

 

“Before this happened,” Dorian started slowly, staring down at their joined hands, “I had entertained the idea of you retiring, not like this of course, but of your own choice. I imagined not having to worry about you dying during a job, but I never asked you to stop, just like you never asked me not to leave for Tevinter. I would rather you be happy over anything else.”

 

“Sweet of you,” Bull murmured.

 

“Don’t start,” Dorian warned. “I mean it. Yes, you being safe is nice, but I miss hearing you giddy with some story of your ridiculous prowess. I wish things were different too, Bull.” Dorian tugged Bull’s hand up to his lips, kissing the knuckles. “I wish I could fix this for you.”

 

“Guess we’re both nostalgic, then.”

 

“More so when I’m with you. I remember what I’m missing by being the dashing hero.” Dorian gave a brilliant, if forced smile.

 

“Being around you can be hard for me too,” Bull admitted, “makes me wish for the good days.”

 

“You mean when the world was ending?” Dorian asked, “or the other time the world was ending?”

 

“When I could haul you up and fuck you against a wall without your feet ever touching the ground. When I could fuck you for hours and not get out of breath."

 

“That was one time, and frankly more trouble that it was worth. Almost being dropped isn’t a turn on, I assure you.” Dorian had complained about that before, using almost the exact same words.

 

“Wanted to fuck you like that when you got back today.”

 

“I should hope not,” Dorian said. “My terrible posture has finally caught up with me and I fear if you fucked me the way you used to I would never walk again.”

 

Bull laughed, using the arm looped around Dorian into a hug. “You’re not as old you pretend to be. You’re only, what, forty-seven.”

 

“Bull,” Dorian warned.

 

“What, fifty-one.”

 

Dorian’s mouth twitched upwards into a smile before he hid it with a frown again.

 

“Okay, okay. Sixt-“

 

“If you finish that sentence I will set this bed on fire and you with it.”

 

Bull’s grin froze on his face.

 “Kaffas, Bull, I’m sorry.” Dorian went up onto his knees cupping Bull’s face with his hands.

 

Bull dropped his head forward bumping their foreheads together. “Don’t worry about it, I knew you had a habit of putting your foot in your mouth when I committed to this. Maybe all the practice is what lets you suck my cock so well.”

 

Dorian huffed. “You are ridiculous.”

 

Bull kissed him, and it was good as it had always been.

 

“Shit, Dorian, isn’t this a right mess?”

 

Dorian settled back down beside Bull, pressed up against his side. “Perhaps, but we’ll work something out.”

 

“Oh?” It felt nice to have Dorian right there. It was still too hot for that sort of closeness but the intimate press of his Kadan's skin to his was soothing.

 

"I have you, Amatus," Dorian said seriously, pressing a kiss to Bull's chest, "and you have me. There is nothing more important. Besides, I don’t know about you, but I still enjoy the sex plenty.”

 

Bull laughed. “Yeah, we’re pretty good at it.”

 

“I should hope so, the amount of practice we’ve put in.” Dorian preened a little, smiling. Bull kissed him again.

 

“Would you like to try and sleep?”  Dorian asked.

 

“Nah, I think I’ll sit up a little longer.” He didn’t think he had any hope of sleeping tonight.

 

Dorian nodded. He didn’t lie back down but snuggled up against Bull’s side, tucking himself under Bull’s arm.

 

Dorian was right, they still had each other.


End file.
